Bad Faith
by iRabid
Summary: About Draco's sixth year at school. Most fits into book, but not all of it. Some DracoXAstoria later on. Rated T just in case.
1. Prologue: A Letter

A letter fluttered to the ground as Narcissa rummaged through his stuff. She bent down to pick it up, and peered at the elegant scrawl through her tear filled eyes. She read it slowly, having to dab at her face every line or so. But, as soon as she finished it, she abruptly left the room sobbing hysterically, and let the letter fall to the bed before her.

_Dear Mother and Astoria, _

_ I know this must be hard for you. I'm sorry, I truly am. I'm sorry you both had to deal with a screwup like me. I'm sorry you had to care for me when I barely returned the favor. And I'm sorry that I hurt you too, by what I'm about to do, or did, if you're reading this. But, I couldn't take it anymore. I hope that godforsaken muggle-lover man is still alive and kicking, because if he isn't, then all of this will have been for nothing. Tell Father I'm sorry._

_ Draco_


	2. Marked with a Task

Draco Malfoy stared at the mark on his forearm, a mixture of pride and something else he couldn't quite fathom tumbling inside of him.

"You like it?" the Dark Lord hissed devilishly, a Slytherin smirk prominent on his face.

Draco closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them to find the same scene before him.

They were in Malfoy Manor, in one of the living rooms. The fire was ablaze and was lighting up several Death Eaters' faces as they looked down, expectantly, at him. Voldemort sat in the large, red velvet armchair, fondling his wand. Draco knelt before him on the rug, shaking ever so slightly.

He nodded mutely, but, upon seeing that The Dark Lord hadn't noticed, forced out a small, "Yes."

"Good." Voldemort smiled, and Draco half expected to see a forked tongue flick out.

A heavy silence fell upon the room, no one knew what to say, or really, whether or not to say anything at all. However, they were soon saved, in a manner of speaking, by Voldemort talking once again.

"Dismissed." Voldemort flicked his wand in the direction of the door, indicating they should go out, and putting more emphasis on the word. The Death Eaters scrambled out, not wanting to be last in the room in case their Lord was in a bad mood. Draco started to get up, before Voldemort stopped him with another flick of his wand. Though these flicks did nothing truly magical, they indicated what his Death Eaters should do, and his followers were not about to disobey him, for fear of losing more than just a limb.

"Stay, boy. You have yet to receive your first mission." Voldemort's voice was like acid running through a stream of what was once clear water.

Draco just barely stopped the frightened intake of breath from escaping as he sat back down on the rug.

Once everyone, save Voldemort and his young companion, had left, Voldemort's piercing gaze fell unto Draco once more.

"This task I am about to appoint you is very critical to my rising. It will give me power unlike ever seen before. You must do this, boy. For there is no better way for you to show your loyalty. You want to know your mission?"

Draco gave a curt nod, trying not to show much emotion.

"You are to kill someone. You are to kill my dearest enemy, besides Potter. You are to kill Albus Dumbledore."

Draco's eyes widened slightly.

Voldemort gingerly picked up a picture from the table beside him. The picture was of Draco and his parents on one of their many worldly trips. "If you do not complete this task by the end of your sixth school year, you and you're mummy and daddy shall be _dealt _with." The picture frame shattered, suddenly, and the photo inside burned to smoke, just by a twitch of the wand.

Shuddering inside, Draco plastered a smirk on his face and tilted his head to look up at Voldemort, "Well, then I mustn't fail, my Lord," he said in a slightly haughty tone.

Voldemort narrowed is eyes, contemplating whether or not to punish the boy for his tone of voice, "No, you mustn't." He motioned for Draco to leave.

Draco got up, relieved, and gave one last glance to the Dark Lord, before leaving the room.

* * *

"What did he say?" Narcissa asked hurriedly, quickly stopping her son from walking past so she could look him over. "Are you okay?"

"Really, Mother!" Draco pulled himself from her grasp, "I'm fine."

"What did he say?" Narcissa repeated herself, stubbornly.

Draco hesitated, and his mother was quick to catch that, before saying, "He just gave me a small task to do."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed, "And what is this '_small_' task?"

"Nothing! It's nothing. I-" Draco stopped himself, "It's nothing."

"Draco," Narcissa looked into her son's eyes pleadingly, "Please, just tell me."

"I'm not so sure if I should," Draco said coldly. He felt a twinge of regret, as he pushed away from her.

Narcissa stared after her son, worry and sadness clear in her gaze. She gave a tiny shake of her head, as if to get rid of some terrible thoughts, before rushing off to tidy up the house some more.

* * *

Draco slammed his trunk closed and slumped onto his regal bed. He had just finished packing, and was exhausted from not getting any sleep the previous night or the one before that. It was just two days after he had been made a Death Eater, and already he could feel the pressure weighing down on him. The pressure to complete the task, and to complete it well.

"Draco?" There was a soft knock on the door. "Draco, it's time to go to sleep. Wouldn't want to miss the train in the morning, now would we?" Narcissa walked in, a gentle smile resting on her lips where usually she was haughty and confident.

"Yeah, school," Draco murmured distractedly, wondering if his mother had been told anything.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Narcissa sat down beside her son, tentatively reaching out a hand to rub his back. He didn't shrug away, or move at all, really. Narcissa knew something was wrong, he didn't like displays of motherly affection, ever.

"So you do know?" Draco asked in a cold tone void of emotion.

"Of course, Draco. The Dark Lord me. A few other Death Eaters know, too, like your Aunt Bella and Severus Snape." Narcissa tried to comfort him, and it might have worked, except for what they were talking about.

"I've got to kill the Headmaster, Mother. The _Headmaster._ How'm I supposed to do that?" Draco asked, turning to her, worry visible in his eyes.

"You'll find a way. You always do. Besides, you didn't get into Slytherin for nothing." Narcissa smiled inwardly at seeing the slightest bit of emotion in her son.

Draco raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, so she didn't know about the consequences. Or, at least, that's what it seemed. After all, Slytherins were good at hiding their emotions whenever they wanted, and his mother was no exception.

"So what do I do?" Draco asked. Though he would never admit it, he found comfort in Narcissa's presence.

"You go to school," Narcissa straightened his collar, "and you act normal. Like you would every other year. Act like nothing out of the ordinary has happened."

"And what if I can't?" Draco retorted. Narcissa paused in her primping of his shirt, wondering slightly at his sudden change of emotion, before continuing smoothing out the wrinkles of his button up.

"You can. You will. You're doing fine with appearing to cope with your fa-" Narcissa cut herself off, wiping the tears from her eyes that had not yet fallen.

"That is completely different, Mother." Draco hesitated before putting his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. He slowly rubbed circles on her back as his mother sobbed quietly. "He'll come back, Mother. I know he will." A lot of lies had been exchanged between the two tonight, and, no matter how comforting they were, they did next to nothing to help their situations.

* * *

I skipped over the trip to Diagon Alley... I didn't really feel like writing it in. But if you _really_ want, I can write it up and insert it in there. And, if it is not obvious enough, this is going back in time from the prologue.


End file.
